Love's Woe
by Richard Lawson
Summary: Two days after getting off the plane, Rachel finds familiar doubts rising as she deals with the consequences of her decision.


Love's Woe  
  
by Richard Lawson  
  
---  
  
Rachel slowly opened her eyes. She had a feeling there was a lot that was going to come crashing in on her as soon as she allowed her brain to start working, and was determined to put off that moment for as long as possible.  
  
The pillow was familiar, but not hers. She didn't have pillows like this, but she knew someone who did. For some reason she shouldn't be resting her head on pillows like these. Exactly why wouldn't come into focus, and Rachel stubbornly refused to let it.  
  
"Hi, honey."  
  
Rachel shifted her eyes to the bathroom door she knew would be there. Ross stood, a slightly silly grin on his face. And then, just as she'd predicted, the whole bed trembled from the impact of the last two days on her brain. The baby being born, which turned out to be two babies. Getting on the plane for Paris. Getting off the plane. Starting to get back on the plane, her name being screamed. Seeing Phoebe. Seeing Ross. Ross... telling her not to go, to stay with him. Leaving him behind, getting on the plane.  
  
Getting off the plane.  
  
Coming back into the city, ending up in this apartment.  
  
Rachel smiled, and mostly it wasn't forced. "Good morning."  
  
"So, I'm off to work." Indeed, Ross was fully dressed, ready for the new day. "I just want to know what we're going to do about Emma."  
  
"Emma?" Rachel kicked her mind into a higher gear. Emma, sleeping in the other room. "Well, given that I don't have a job or anything to do, I suppose I can just barely sneak in watching her today."  
  
Ross's smile faded a bit. "I, I didn't mean... you know, we could probably get back in to the day care center. Or I can watch her while you do other stuff, it's no big deal. It's just, today I have a faculty meeting I have to attend first thing." He paused, his eyes judging. "I can come right back after my two o'clock class."  
  
"No, no, that's okay, I can deal with it today." Rachel propped herself up on one elbow. "I'll call day care and see if they can take her starting tomorrow. Go on to work."  
  
"Okay." His body turned to go but his head kept looking at her. "So, are you going to be all right?"  
  
"Yes, I'll be fine. I'll see you tonight."  
  
Rachel watched Ross's eyes closely. They were focused tightly on hers, and she could feel him thinking. After a few seconds, he turned his body back towards the bed, walked over, and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Bye."  
  
"Bye." Rachel kept the disappointment out of her voice as Ross left the apartment.  
  
Although he closed the door quietly, it still seemed to wake up Emma. Rachel could hear the crib rattling as Emma grabbed the bars and shook them, signaling her desire to leave. At twenty-one months, Ross insisted Emma was ready to be in an actual bed but Rachel was filled with visions of Emma falling headfirst onto the floor. With a sigh, Rachel threw back the covers and got up.  
  
The day started mechanically, the routine familiar. Getting Emma cleaned, fed, and cleaned again. Changing Emma's clothes, choosing from the limited selection Ross still had in his apartment, the biggest portion being stored somewhere in France. Then, finally, setting Emma on the floor, surrounded by her toys. Emma instantly ignoring them to grab a magazine from the coffee table and begin tearing at the pages. Rachel gently taking the magazine away, distracting Emma with a plushy kitty that was a favorite of hers. Emma finally setting down with the cat and making "meow" sounds at it. Rachel using the opportunity to go through her own morning routine, washing, changing, her own selection of clothing even more limited than Emma's. Her stuff would be at least a week coming back.  
  
At last, Rachel was able to sit on the overstuffed chair and look down at Emma, who was studiously piling wooden blocks on top of her kitty. That probably meant something deeply psychological, but for once Rachel didn't have the energy to work herself up over it.  
  
Steeling herself, she picked up Ross's phone. She dialed five digits, then hit the disconnect button. Grunting in annoyance, she dialed ten digits and heard the phone ring. Her finger hovered over the disconnect button, but then a voice came over the line. "Mr. Zelner's office."  
  
"Uh, hi." Rachel put the phone to her ear. "This is Rachel Green. May I speak to Mr. Zelner?"  
  
"Oh, Ms. Green, hi. Let me see if he has time for you." Hold music replaced the voice. Rachel tapped her fingernails on her thigh, wondering if she'd be relieved or disappointed if he wasn't available.  
  
The hold music stopped, and Zelner's voice boomed into Rachel's ear. "Hello, Rachel. Are you enjoying Paris?"  
  
The way he said it made her stomach shrivel up into a tiny ball. Zelner had probably guessed why she had called, and wasn't happy about it. "I, I've decided that the strain of being separated from her father would be too much for my daughter. I've turned down the Paris opportunity and," oh God, this was going to be harder to say than she had feared, "and I was sort of hoping that maybe the, the last job offer you made would still... be available?"  
  
"I see." The tone was brusque, and Rachel knew the answer before she heard it. "Unfortunately, we have filled that position already. However, if another opening arises, you just send us a resume and we'll give it due consideration."  
  
"O-okay. Th-" Rachel bit off the words; she had nearly thanked him for cutting her off at the knees. Not that she had anyone to blame but herself. "Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye, Rachel." The phone went dead.  
  
Feeling slightly shaky, Rachel replaced the receiver. She had not expected a different answer but still felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Ralph Lauren had been a good job, a great job. But the opportunities for promotion had been limited, and Gucci had an opening that offered greater responsibility with the prospect for advancement. So she'd gone after it, and had somehow in the process failed to get the Gucci job and lost her current job in the process.  
  
Then Mark, then Paris. A fantastic opportunity, surpassing all that she'd ever been offered before. And, because of one encounter at the airport, she'd thrown that away, too.  
  
All in all, she felt remarkably similar to the way she'd felt when running through the rain in her wedding gown. Adrift, alone, fleeing from a life of comfort into unknown chaos.  
  
She felt her eyes drifting back to Emma, who had grabbed her kitty and yanked it from the blocks, sending them flying. Emma gurgled happily, then put the kitty back down and began covering it with blocks again. Rachel smiled. There was a difference; this time she had a family. She had a daughter. She had people who, even if she would no longer see them daily, would nevertheless be within easy reach, always willing to give her any kind of support she needed.  
  
And, she had a good relationship with a man who loved her. She had done this all because she had decided to allow herself to love him back. That had to be worth it.  
  
Didn't it?  
  
Rachel picked up the phone again, made two more phone calls. One to the day care center, which would be delighted to continue receiving the large check she and Ross sent them every month. And another to the headhunter that had recruited her for Gucci, letting him know that she was available for similar opportunities. He responded enthusiastically, giving Rachel a reason to hope. He promised to be in touch.  
  
By the end of the phone call Emma had walked over to the chair and studiously climbed onto Rachel's lap. She tried to pull the phone from Rachel's ear and, failing that, began playing with her hair. Rachel did her best to keep Emma's hands occupied with her own as she finished up the conversation. She hung up the phone and put her head level with Emma's. "What are you doing, silly?"  
  
"Mama," Emma answered.  
  
"I know I'm your mama, but can't you see I'm on the phone?" Rachel kept her voice amused and loving. "What is it you wanted anyway?"  
  
"Belly juice?" Emma pointed at the kitchen.  
  
Rachel smiled. Emma's favorite juice was cranberry, which was currently called "belly" despite Ross's continued attempts to get Emma to say the r's. "All right, sweetie. Do you want to go for a stroller ride afterwards?"  
  
"Belly," Emma agreed.  
  
Collecting the paraphernalia needed for leaving the apartment with Emma was always a major task. She had, at first, ignored the checklist Ross had produced for her, but after being caught once too often without a diaper, Rachel had begrudgingly resorted to running through the list. After over a year it had become second nature to bring everything. Almost second nature.  
  
The day was bright and warm, just a hint of a cool breeze, as perfect a day as New York was capable of producing. Rachel stood and basked in it for a few seconds, then pushed the stroller down the street.  
  
Almost unconsciously she found herself heading for the coffee shop. She stopped when it came into view, looking at it. Somehow it was different, somehow it seemed alien. Just yesterday it had played host to the six of them, quite possibly for the last time. Now, it almost seemed like a violation of that special moment to enter it again.  
  
But it remained the closest coffee shop to the apartment, and Rachel liked their vanilla blend. And if she was going to become emotional over every little thing, she wasn't going to last the day. Resolutely she entered the coffee shop.  
  
A man with a blonde-white crew cut looked up at her as she entered, then just as quickly looked away and walked into the back room. Rachel winced; she'd forgotten all about him. He was probably in no small amount of pain himself. She had no idea how to respond to him. Why'd it all have to get so complicated so quickly?  
  
She ordered her coffee to go, scanned the room quickly, then left. No one was here, but of course they wouldn't be - they usually met for lunch or after work or for an evening. Come to think of it, mid-morning was about the only time one of them wouldn't be here. Before, anyway.  
  
Rachel pushed Emma down the sidewalk towards the park, moving very slowly, letting her emotions gently push her forward. Too much, too much was happening and she had the whole day still.  
  
The park was full of pre-school kids and parents, slightly to Rachel's surprise. She unstrapped Emma and put her in the sandbox, close to other kids and well away from the swings. Emma considered each of her playmates in turn - most were a little older - then began burying the leg of a three-year old boy who seemed as if he wanted to object but wasn't entirely certain how.  
  
Rachel sat on a nearby bench and kept her eyes on Emma while her mind went elsewhere.  
  
"You getting married just reminds me of the fact that I'm not. I'm not even close. And I don't know, maybe I just wanted to make myself feel better. And I know that that's dumb."  
  
Her words to Monica, explaining why she had nearly slept with Ross on the night of Monica's engagement. The words were true then. Surely they were true now. Why, exactly, had she just thrown her career away to be with Ross? What was different now? She was getting older, and the yearning to have the kind of closeness Monica had with Chandler was getting stronger. Had it finally overcome her common sense and forced her to settle on Ross?  
  
Rachel sighed heavily. It was just so wrong, she had made such a horrible decision. Ross, the man she had gravitated towards and pulled away from for nine years. There were very good, valid reasons why they had never sustained a relationship. His insane jealousy, his possessiveness, his self-involvement, his ability to say exactly the right thing to hurt her the most.  
  
And then the airport, where she had seen in his face the kind of earnest, raw love that had attracted her in the first place. Feeling the plane pull away from the terminal and suddenly afraid, desperately afraid, that she would never find that kind of love again. The fight with the airline personnel, the desperate rush back to his apartment, just to be there, to feel his love.  
  
And for nearly a full day, it had been enough.  
  
Now, alas, there were consequences to be reckoned with. No job, no direction. And beneath it all the cold realization that she had based everything on fear - fear of being alone, fear of going to a new place where she knew no one, fear of leaving everything she'd known behind. Nothing positive at all, nothing to look forward to.  
  
Rachel reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. She carefully dabbed her eyes and bit down hard on her emotions. She put the handkerchief back and pulled out her phone. Rachel studied the buttons carefully, her eyes following the pattern of digits she would have to press to call Mark back and beg him for the Paris job again. Certainly it couldn't be too late.  
  
She had no idea how long she sat there, staring at the phone, when she realized that the sun had moved in the sky and was now bearing directly down on her. A sudden feeling of panic made her look over at Emma. She was fine, currently involved in tearing down a crude sand castle left behind by another child. But the sun was now shining directly on the sandbox too, and Rachel put the phone away and rushed over to take Emma out. She protested only briefly before allowing Rachel to change her diaper. Rachel brushed the sand off Emma's legs as best she could and put her back in the stroller with a carton of juice to occupy her.  
  
Time to go home, Rachel decided. She pushed the stroller back to the apartment. His apartment. Not hers, not at all. Despite the help she had given Ross in decorating it, the feel and texture were all his. She'd never feel like it was her home.  
  
Rachel wrenched her mind away from the direction her thoughts were going. It was too easy to get bitter. And she had no reason to. In that, Phoebe had been her role model, a person who'd had perhaps the worst upbringing Rachel had ever heard about yet come out of it with an incredibly sunny disposition. Rachel needed to focus on the positive. She just didn't know what that was at the moment.  
  
After the return to the apartment, Rachel went into a mechanical mode again, feeding Emma, cleaning her up, and setting her down for a nap. Emma was a little more fussy than normal and Rachel had sung softly to her for a while. Eventually, after a good deal of complaining, Emma had fallen asleep. Rachel quietly left the room and flopped on the couch in the living room. Ross had always been better with that kind of stuff - dealing with Emma, getting her to do the things she needed to do.  
  
That, she supposed, was a valid reason for staying with him. He was a terrific father, and had often been a pillar she had leaned on while dealing with the difficulties of being a single parent. He loved Emma immensely, and Rachel often found herself enjoying watching Ross and Emma together. The thought of taking Emma farther away from him had been gut-wrenching, and the most difficult obstacle to overcome in her decision to leave for Paris.  
  
But she had overcome it. The company had been more than willing to accommodate her and Ross as much as possible. Emma would still have known her father. Rachel almost absently reached into her purse, and pulled out her phone again. A simple ten-digit number. So easy to call.  
  
Rachel actually yelped when the phone rang in her hand. She recovered her composure and clicked the receive button. "Rachel Green."  
  
"Hello, this is Henry." Her headhunter, and talking in a clearly excited voice. "I have an opportunity for you with Escada USA."  
  
Escada. German-based company, with products ranging from diamond jewelry to fragrances to fashion. They had an interesting line of business apparel for women that wasn't exactly to Rachel's taste but wasn't repellant either. "They want me as a buyer?"  
  
"Actually, they're looking for someone in sales. I think this would work well for you - you know what buyers are looking for, and you have good negotiating skills. Escada is looking to make a big push into the US market and they need good sellers."  
  
Rachel mulled that over. She had encountered many salespeople during her career and had not always enjoyed the experience. But she had met several good ones and did, indeed, know what techniques worked best with people in her position. It would be a definite career change, and she wasn't exactly certain she had the salesperson kind of mindset. But the idea was very intriguing and she found herself unable to dismiss it out of hand. "All right. Set me up with an interview. I'll talk with them."  
  
"Excellent! How's tomorrow at ten?"  
  
"Tomorrow." That was fast. This guy seemed to know what he was doing. "Tomorrow works."  
  
Rachel got the details from him and hung up. She stared at the notepad for a while, letting her mind wrap itself around the concept. Sales. Commissions and whatnot. Not taking no for an answer. Selling things she wouldn't necessarily buy for herself. Dealing with different people all the time. Strange. But somewhat compelling, too.  
  
Putting down the notepad, Rachel stood up and walked over to Ross's computer. She turned it on and began doing some research. No reason not to be as prepared as possible.  
  
---  
  
The door almost burst open. "Hello!"  
  
Rachel looked up from the notes she had been scribbling. Ross was home a little earlier than she had expected. He was smiling widely at her, clearly still in a semi-euphoric state. She flashed a quick smile in return. "Can you get dinner for Emma? I'm kinda in the middle of something."  
  
"Uh, sure." That seemed to take a little wind out of his sails. He closed the door, set down his briefcase, and picked Emma up from where she was piling her stuffed animals on top of each other. Emma squealed in delight and Rachel found herself spending the next few minutes watching Ross and Emma together. While she sometimes regarded the things she needed to do with Emma as chores, Ross seemed to delight in every interaction with his daughter, no matter how mundane the task.  
  
After Ross had somehow made cleaning Emma up after dinner a fun game, he looked over at her with a grin. "Want me to change her and put her to bed?"  
  
"If you want. It's a little early yet."  
  
"I'll play with her for a while to wear her out." Ross scooped Emma up and left the room as Emma began grabbing her father's nose with an exclamation of ownership.  
  
Rachel looked back down at her notes but found herself unable to derive any meaning from them.  
  
An hour of fruitless staring later, Ross came back into the room and sat heavily on the couch. "Okay, she's still up but now I'm ready for a nap."  
  
Rachel forced herself to stir. "Want me to get her to sleep?"  
  
"No no, she's listening to Sir Mix-A-Lot with her eyes half-closed. She'll be asleep in a minute or two." Ross smiled at her. "How was your day?"  
  
Rachel stood up, walked over to the chair next to the couch, and sat down, all the while looking steadily at Ross.  
  
Ross had begun to move over to make room for her on the couch and was clearly surprised. He persisted with his smile though. "Did you get the day care worked out?"  
  
"Yes, they'll take her tomorrow morning. Which is good because I have an interview for a new job tomorrow."  
  
"Sweetie, that's great!" While his smile was wide, his eyes were still carefully watching her face. "Who's it with?"  
  
"Why didn't you stay with me this morning?" The words spilled out of her with surprising force.  
  
Ross blinked, his smile vanishing. "What?"  
  
"You left this morning when you knew I was, I was having a reaction to everything that's happened. Why?" Rachel leaned forward, her stare penetrating. "Didn't you want to help me?"  
  
She waited for Ross to begin to protest that she had told him she was fine. That he'd had an important meeting and that as a newly-tenured professor he had to set a good example. There were a thousand excuses he could make and she found that, unexpectedly, part of her mind had been preparing all day to rip them to shreds.  
  
Rather than get irritated, though, Ross looked down guiltily. "I, I did know. I wanted to stay."  
  
"They why didn't you!" Rachel forced her voice to remain even, fought against the stridency that wanted to overtake her. "I needed you."  
  
"N-no you didn't. That was, that was kind of the point."  
  
Somehow this was not the response Rachel had expected. "What?"  
  
"Well..." Ross plucked at his pants for a couple of seconds, then looked up at her. "When we were dating, I was so protective of you. I, I tried to do things that I though was best for you, even if you didn't always agree. I look back over it, and I think that maybe we really did need to take a break, because, because I wasn't... adjusting to... what, what you were becoming."  
  
Rachel frowned. "And what was I becoming?"  
  
"Independent." Ross thinned his lips. "And, and for some reason, I, I wanted you to be... more dependent. On me. So really, I needed to let you go. Until I had... matured a little." He lifted a corner of his mouth. "Of course, I didn't see it that way at the time."  
  
Rachel settled back in her chair. "And what has all that have to do with this morning?"  
  
"Well..." Ross swallowed. "I could see something was bothering you, and that it had something to do with me. It wasn't hard to guess what it was either. But you told me you were fine, which, which I thought meant that you weren't ready to talk about it. So, so I decided to trust you to... that when you'd had time to sort things out, you'd bring it up and we could talk about it then."  
  
Ross shrugged. "I might have been wrong. But Rach, if this is gonna work, then I'm going to have to trust you more than I did before. I mean, even a week ago, I didn't, I was trying to protect you from Mark when you didn't need it. And I should have known, I really should have realized that you were capable of judging his intentions for yourself. So, so I swore that I'd never... presume to... live your life for you. You know what's best for yourself, and if you want my advice, you'll ask for it."  
  
Rachel stared blankly at him. He fidgeted under her gaze but still held it.  
  
After a couple of minutes, Rachel found the power to speak. "Ross, sometimes I rely on you to... to let me know if I'm about to make a mistake. I'm still capable of doing stupid impulsive things. All I ask is that when I tell you something, you believe what I say, and that if I do something that's against your advice, you let me do it without being all Rosslike about it."  
  
Ross grinned, showing a fair amount of relief. "Okay."  
  
Rachel nodded. "Okay."  
  
After a few seconds, Ross tentatively offered, "So do you want to talk about whatever it was that was bothering you?"  
  
Rachel considered this, then stood up, took one step over to the couch, sat down, and wrapped her arms around Ross. "Maybe we don't need to any more."  
  
He put an arm around her shoulders, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "So, no regrets then?"  
  
"A few regrets," she found herself saying. "But overall I'm not unhappy."  
  
"Not unhappy?" Ross echoed. "Is that, is that anywhere close to being happy?"  
  
"It's close." Rachel squeezed him tightly. "There's not one person in the world who knows me as well as you do. You know all my faults, all the silly things I'm prone to do, and you still love me. That's why I stayed. Because I need that. I need... someone who can see me for who I really am and, and has the courage to offer me guidance when I need it."  
  
"Uh... is that... is that love?"  
  
He sounded so vulnerable. Rachel lifted her head to look into his eyes. "All that and more is why I love you. Don't make me start listing reasons. We've already had a few too many lists in our relationship, don't you think?"  
  
Ross didn't look like he knew how to respond to that, so Rachel smiled to let him know how she intended it. He smiled as well, and Rachel could feel his chest move as he sighed in relief. Rachel kissed him, a small, tender kiss that lingered for a few seconds. Then she put her head on his chest and listened to his heart for a while and decided that this was good.  
  
After perhaps a minute, Ross spoke. "So... what are you going to wear tomorrow?"  
  
"Oh my God!" Rachel rose quickly to her feet, her panic similarly skyrocketing. "All my clothes are in France! Oh, I don't have anything, and there's no time to go shopping, it's at ten!"  
  
Ross also stood, his expression one of calm concern. "How about-"  
  
"Monica!" Rachel grabbed the phone. "She'll have her clothes unpacked, I can borrow some of hers, maybe the blue skirt, or the white pants, or... oh my God, Ross, what's her number? I don't know her number!"  
  
Ross pointed at the phone. "Speed dial two."  
  
Rachel quickly punched the buttons. "They're in Westchester, how can we get the clothes here in time?"  
  
"Relax, honey." Ross smiled reassuringly. "We'll work it out."  
  
Rachel looked up at Ross as she waited for the phone to be answered and decided that they would, indeed, work it out.  
  
---  
  
Central Perk was just recovering from the morning rush. Rachel stood in the doorway, eyeing the surroundings. The tables were being cleaned in preparation for lunch, but for now there would be a lull. Mid-morning had been a peaceful time that Rachel had appreciated during her shifts here many years ago.  
  
She walked up to the counter. "Gunther, may I have the usual to go, please?"  
  
He looked up and his eyes danced over her. She could imagine what he saw - she had put special effort into her appearance today in preparation for her interview in an hour. But just as quickly his eyes stopped moving and a kind of pain crossed his face. "Sure," he mumbled.  
  
Rachel sat on a stool as she waited. When he handed her the cup, she took it with both hands, holding his hand in place. "Gunther, I want you to know something. When I told you I loved you as a friend, I meant it. When I needed a job and no one would even talk to me, you got me a job here. You did your best to teach me about being responsible and taking pride in my work. I didn't... always succeed at that. But you did teach me something, and as I moved on to other jobs I was surprised at how much the stuff you taught me still applied."  
  
Rachel leaned forward a bit to look into his eyes. "Part of everything I am and everything I've accomplished has been, in part, due to you. I won't forget that, ever. Ross is my boyfriend now, but I hope that doesn't stop us from being friends, too."  
  
Gunther looked at her, then down at her hands covering his, then back up. Finally he did something she rarely saw him do: he smiled. "I'd like to be your friend as well."  
  
"Great." Rachel took the cup from him and smiled in return. "I'm on my way to an interview right now. Wish me luck."  
  
"Good luck, Rachel." He seemed to mean it, too.  
  
Rachel left, sipping the coffee. How strange the world seemed now. Same, but different. Very different. She just needed to find her new place in it. She was well on her way. With a little help.  
  
And love.  
  
With a nod to the world at large, Rachel strode confidently down the sidewalk.  
  
---  
  
(the end)  
  
---  
  
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought  
I summon up remembrance of things past,  
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,  
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:  
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,  
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,  
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,  
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:  
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,  
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er  
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,  
Which I new pay as if not paid before.  
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
All losses are restored and sorrows end.  
  
-Sonnet XXX  
-William Shakespeare 


End file.
